The 74th Hunger Games: Something to Remember
by fifteenandpout
Summary: "You have to take that girl out first thing if she doesn't agree to have an alliance with you." Sighing, Cato nodded; he should have seen this coming. "I will."
1. The Preceedings

"Why are you always sneaking up on me?" Clove asked irritably.

"Because that's the only way I can get your attention," Cato said, tossing a stone into the river idly. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something more, but no words came.

Clove kept her eyes focused on the water. "Well I'd appreciate it if you didn't," she replied tersely. The feelings of vulnerability that he evoked in her made her nervous beyond anything she'd ever felt before. And Clove wasn't particularly fond of feeling weak.

"Since when have I cared what you appreciate or not?" Cato chuckled, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Clove scoffed, shaking her dark-haired head and narrowing her eyes at Cato. "You should; I could easily kill you with a knife."

Rolling his eyes, Cato smirked as he lifted his own throwing spear. "Yes, and I have a much bigger one plus bigger arms. The knife thing can only protect you for so long."

Clenching her teeth, Clove pressed her lips into a thin line before throwing Cato an irritable look again. "You couldn't kill me if you tried," she retorted smugly. Clove didn't believe he could do it. They joked around about volunteering together and the problems that might create, but she was sure he'd let himself be killed before he had to kill her.

Cato, though, seemed to know her challenge inside and out. Cocking his head to the side, he looked at her for a moment as if to say _do you really want me to prove my point?_ After a moment's hesitation, Cato picked up the spear and grabbed for Clove's ankle just as she turned to run. She'd realized his intentions a half second too late.

"Cato! Let go!"

Smirking, "I could kill you if I wanted."

Clove twisted in his grasp, trying to free her foot but he had a good hold on her. She wasn't going anywhere. Her next move was to somehow undo her shoe laces and slip her foot out, but Cato only noticed that detail as well and moved his grip to her calf.

"Still believe that nonsense, _darling_?" He barely had to do anything but stand there holding her leg and she couldn't move. It was nothing less than infuriating to Clove.

Nostrils flaring, Clove reluctantly slipped a knife out of her jacket and turned to throw it at him. Cato ducked just in time to see the knife splash into the fast-flowing river behind them. "That wasn't very smart," he chided, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

Cato released Clove for a split second. In that moment, she dove for the ground in an attempt for freedom, but she realized belatedly that her move was exactly what Cato had been expecting. He lunged after her, trapping her on the ground. Clove stayed on her stomach, face buried in the spring grass.

"Feeling confident now, Cloves?" He growled in her ear. She shook her head defiantly, though her face was still being smothered by the grass.

Lifting her head to speak, "I'd rather you kill me now than give up."

Cato rolled his eyes, "Roll over."

"No."

Ignoring her protests, Cato rolled Clove over, still straddling her legs. "Roll up your sleeve."

"What?"

"Just do it."

"Fine, but don't.." Clove trailed off as she watched Cato open her jacket and slide a clean dagger out. It shone brilliantly in the sun, all traces of its intentions lost to the happy glittering. His gaze had taken on a sharp edge, seriousness carving itself into his features.

"Trust me?"

Clove looked at him skeptically for a moment, wondering what was up before nodding her head in assent.

Lowering the knife to her upper arm, Cato locked his gaze on hers for a second before touching the cool blade to her skin. He applied a little pressure and Clove gasped in return. "Trust me," he murmured, eyes never straying from the dagger. Cato traced a small four-leaf clover on her skin with the knife, little bubbles of blood forming in the blade's wake. When he was finished, he swiped each side of the dagger in the grass, effectively cleaning off any remaining splotches of blood while Clove inspected his handiwork.

"What do you want to wish me good luck for?" She asked, wiping the blood off with her sleeve before tracing the red lines with her index finger. It looked relatively good, nothing crude or ugly about the small design. She felt no anger at him for what he'd done, only obvious confusion at the suddenness of it all.

"The Games," Cato replied simply, blinking at her before handing the dagger over. He handed it to her in a way that implied it was her turn though, and not just for her to slip it back into her jacket.

Taking the handle wordlessly, Clove sat up as Cato moved off of her, finally letting her have some freedom back. She shifted her weight so that she was kneeling on her knees next to him, fingers gingerly pushing up his sleeve.

Clove took a moment to think of something to mark Cato with, something that held meaning. Though their scars would pale and become hard to detect, Cato and Clove would know they were there and know exactly what design made up the intricate lines of scar tissue. Clove traced a four leaf clover onto Cato's upper arm, but left two of the leaves missing.

"From Clover Nightingale, District 2."

"So is that my good luck charm? You?" Cato laughed, and Clove pulled the dagger away from his arm before she accidentally stabbed him with it, though her quick thinking had her instantly lunging back at Cato. Cato rolled backwards, caught off guard by her attack. She held him down as well as she could, silver blade pressed to his throat.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried." She repeated from her earlier accusation.

"Nice change of subject, Cloves," he murmured, trying to keep his breathing low enough to save himself additional scarring.

"I had to prove a point; you really can't."

"Maybe not, but we if don't get ready for the Reaping, I'm sure the Peacekeepers will have no problem killing the both of us."

They gave each other a knowing look, and silence settled over the pair. Clove looked down at Cato before slipping the knife back into her jacket as he stood up. They exchanged one last look before heading in opposite directions. It was time for the Reaping. Clove smirked, hand fluttering over the front of her jacket as she headed home; let the Games begin.


	2. The Reaping Begins

Smoothing out her dress, Clove began the long walk to the square. Cato had it much easier, having lived in the square his entire life. She knew he would wait around for her, though. Cato would wait and attempt to convince her not to volunteer. He'd been relatively successful the last few years, but this year she wanted to volunteer no matter what he said. She was ready.

Clove trailed behind a brother and sister, listening to their quiet conversation.

"_You'll be okay."_

"_No.. They—They'll pick me. I just kno-ow,"_ came the stuttered response. Clove could almost hear the tears rolling down the little girl's face.

The boy stopped, kneeling in front of his sister. Clove recognized him as a boy from school, from her grade even. Though Clove had stopped as well, neither of them had noticed her or her obvious curiosity. She'd never had someone to comfort her like that.

"_I'm promising you that you'll be okay."_ His words didn't seem to reassure the girl, though. She choked out a few sobs, eyes turning pink where she'd rubbed them.

"If they pick you, I'll volunteer in your place," Clove said automatically, almost robotically. There was no warmth to her voice, only the cold that she had always been capable of. It weighed the words down like stones, leaving her sounding harsh and indifferent. The girl saw past this, though, and sniffled as she turned to smile at Clove.

Behind his little sister, the boy mouthed the words, "Thanks, Clove."

Clove nodded her assent before hurrying past them. She now had a good excuse for volunteering, if Cato asked, but there was the chance that this girl wouldn't be chosen anyway. Sighing, Clove picked up her pace. She just wanted this day to be over with her traveling on the train to the Capitol.

* * *

The tiny guilt that tugged at her mind from not knowing the boy's name though he knew hers slowly faded as she neared the square. Without having to be mindful of younger siblings, Clove could do almost whatever she wanted. She decided to take the well-known shortcut past Cato's house. The houses were packed close together in this part of the district, but she knew the number of his house and where it was like the back of her hand.

"Cato," she whispered, letting the words flutter on the breeze before they vanished into thin air.

Like he always did, Cato slipped around the corner and into view. He'd been hiding out from his parents who would have urged him to hurry into the square immediately after having been dressed and readied. They were perpetually worried for their son's health, and Cato was forever doing numerous things they would disprove of. It wasn't that he wanted to spite them like how Clove did things just to make her father mad, but he was just having fun in his own twisted way.

Grinning, Cato looked her up and down with his usual arrogance. "Looking good, though I obviously do formal better."

Clove rolled her eyes, tugging at the cinched fabric uncomfortably. She'd never much liked having to dress up for the Reaping. If she was chosen as a tribute, though, there would only be a few more times to get all dolled up and then the road split but came to a similar verdict. No matter how the Games ended, she wouldn't have to dress up anymore.

"Come on," Cato said quietly, taking note of her silence and lack of snide comments. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed it before retracting his hand altogether. "Let's just get this over with," he commented, squinting up at the sun that filtered in between the stacked houses.

As they walked along through the winding alleyways, Clove glanced up at the pristine white of the shutters on every window. Each house was nearly identical with rooms upstairs and downstairs to hold two families. The square was located in the very center with the houses and alleys branching out like dead tentacles. Outside of the city, the houses were farther apart and much less cheerful and perfect. Her own house looked like it would be much more suited for a hover crane to smash the side in.

Following Cato into the square, the two of them gave each other a quick glance before separating into their designated slots. Clove held out her hand for them to take her blood, feeling a nervous bubble forming in her stomach.

She stepped forward with as much grace and poise as she always had when going to the Reaping. It was important to at least add to the background, even if you weren't the center of attention. People would look back on this footage next year as everyone geared up for the Quarter Quell.

"Welcome, welcome!" Milyndia called through the microphone as the children, ages twelve to eighteen, finished filing into the square. There was a silent wave of acknowledgement that the Reaping had begun, a few smirks settling on the tributes that were anticipating the moment when they could volunteer. "Let's get ready for the 74th Hunger Games!"

The mayor went through his normal speech, Brutus and Enobaria adding in their small wishes of luck to the tributes who would be chosen.

Milyndia snatched up the microphone again, her sleek, blue tresses flowing down her back in a sheet. "Now let's start with the girls, shall we?" Her purple eyes sparkled as they roved over the girls; Clove averted her gaze.

Her long fingers tapped the glass of the bowl before she thrust her hand into it abruptly. She pulled a name right from the heart of it, just like she'd done every year since she'd become District 2's escort.

"Clover Nightingale. Come on up, darling!" Milyndia trilled happily.

Cato watched with a pained expression as Clove moved toward the stage. He'd wanted to hold it off, but there'd been no use; all the luck in the world couldn't have stopped this. Adrenaline pumped through his body, a whooshing sound rising in his ears as Clove began her assent to the stage. Cato thought about how many times her name must have been put into that bowl and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He had to volunteer; it was the only way he could make sure she would be all right.

"Hello there, Clover! You can stand right here and be a dear while I pick our boy tribute." The knots in Cato's stomach twisted tighter with every sugary sweet word that escaped Milyndia's lips.

Her fingers, long and spindly, dove into the bowl for a second time that day, the faint sound of paper crinkling being caught by the microphone. The seconds it took Milyndia to open the slip up and read off the name seemed to last for hours, every nerve ending in Cato's body on edge. Clove seemed to be staring straight ahead, her attention elsewhere. Maybe she was wondering who her fellow tribute would be. Maybe she was hoping it would be Cato.

The name didn't matter, but as soon as Cato could visibly see the escort open her mouth to speak, he was off running. Cato pushed his way through some other boys roughly, not bothering to worry if he knocked anyone over.

"I volunteer!" He shouted at precisely the same time as another boy. Cato turned, looking at the strangely familiar boy beside him. And then it clicked. This was Mason Boulve, the boy who'd loved Clove since before even Cato had met her.

Sneering, Cato turned and punched him square in the nose.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I always forget to make an Author's Note, so this is kind of for both, I guess. Obviously, I don't own the Hunger Games. This is going to be my first multi-chapter Clato story, and it's based in the 74th Hunger Games (again, obviously). Reviews are greatly appreciated. ^_^


	3. So Long, Farewell

Milyndia gasped audibly, her hand fluttering over her heart melodramatically. Clove took one look at the blood flowing from Mason's nose and let her eyes flutter shut. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself before looking back at the boys intently. There was sure to be at least one camera recording her reaction for later use. She refused to give them anything to use against her, though.

"Boys! _Boys!_" Milyndia cried as though she'd been the one to be punched in the face. Clove held in an eye roll; they weren't even fighting. Actually, she wondered what they _were_ doing.

Cato's gaze locked on Clove for a moment before he wiped the back of his hand across his nice pants. The blood smeared a sticky red-brown across the khaki material. His eyes shifted to take in Mason, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight, but nothing came or seemed to be coming.

"What are you doing?" Cato whispered under his breath, careful to keep his lips from moving.

Mason only shook his head, pointing to the stage with a flourish before putting a hand to his nose. He looked conflicted, like he was about to say something he didn't want to say. And then, "She doesn't care about me anyway," came the whispered response. Cato almost opened his mouth to argue, but instead strode straight to the stage steps, his eyes trained on Clove. Mason had given this up so that he could be the one to protect Clove. It almost made Cato wonder who Mason really had a thing for.

"I'm.. I.. Is that allowed?!" Milyndia screeched, eyes wild as she pointed from Cato to the mayor. The mayor grumbled something inaudible under his beard before turning his sharp gaze on Cato.

Mayor Greyson stood, using a cane to support his massive frame. "What you did there, Son, was a great risk," he rasped, breath reeking of tobacco. "I commend you for that. You shall be the newest male tribute for District 2."

Milyndia looked quite dismayed by this turn of events when she'd obviously been bent on Cato being declined for tribute, but that was no matter now. What the mayor decided went. Cato let an arrogant smirk flit across his face just long enough for Milyndia to catch sight of it.

"Well, there you have it, folks! Our newest male tribute for District 2 for the 74th Hunger Games! Cato," she cut off, glancing back at Cato for help. Instead of offering her a name that she would likely never live down for repeating, Cato responded with his actual last name. Milyndia turned back to her microphone, excited as ever. "Cato Greyson!"

* * *

Goodbyes had never been Clove's forte, but she'd have to make do with the only goodbye she'd have to get through. She wasn't anticipating a loving moment between her father and herself, only one of silence and a swollen hatred. Clove couldn't even remember the last time she'd had to talk to her father face-to-face.

The door opened and he entered, looking slightly disoriented. The stench of alcohol instantly filled the air, and Clove gritted her teeth. This was only going to be ten times harder. It was just her luck that he was almost no different intoxicated than he was when there wasn't a drop of alcohol in his body.

"Hi."

"Hello, Clover."

"I guess this is goodbye."

"Don't rush this yet. I just have a couple things I want to say to you." His eyes looked like they might bulge out of his face at any given moment, but other than that, he looked relatively composed. Clove had to give him props; there would be plenty of awkward social situations heading his way because of this.

"Go ahead," she bit out the words, preparing herself for the worst.

"I just want you to know, that I still blame you for what happened."

Clove stared at him, jaw dropping in time with her stomach. He wouldn't dare bring this up now. It wasn't fair. How could she be strong when he was obviously trying to tear her down. His excuse would be that he was building her strength, but she'd had enough of that. It could only go so far.

"You wouldn't," she breathed.

"If you hadn't knocked that candle over, Clover, your mother would have never died." He said coolly, eyes roving around the room as if he couldn't believe such a nice place existed.

Clove could feel the air leaving her body, all sense of anything lost. He'd been here for no more than two minutes and her head was spinning. It didn't make sense. Why was he bringing this up _here_ of all places? It'd been so long since the incident had actually happened.

Once upon a time, Clover had been a happy child. She would bounce around, stubby legs working hard to follow her mother everywhere she went. But one day, she'd wandered away into the study while her father was away. He'd left a candle burning on the coffee table, and her grubby little fingers couldn't help themselves. Clove, unknowingly, knocked the candle off the table as she was crawling away.

The fire left nothing of the study behind and took the life of her mother. The only consolation Clove could find in the story was that her mother hadn't died an agonizing death from burns, but a far less painful death by breathing in too much carbon dioxide. Her father, who hadn't even been home, had become an alcoholic and continually blamed her for said accident.

"Dad, stop," Clove mumbled, eyes watering.

"Honey, damnit, you know it's all your fault. Why can't you just see that you're a monster?! And now you get to go into the Hunger Games! Was that your dream? Did you want to kill some more people, huh? Was your mother not enough?"

"Dad, you're drunk." Clove watched him stagger back against the door with a slightly surprised expression on his face. He kept switching between confusion and anger, obviously not drunk enough to carry this out effectively. The words were slowly getting to her, though.

"Clover," he pointed his finger at her accusingly, red blotches covering his face. "I hope you die out there in that damn arena. I don't ever want to see your face again."

She stared at him in shock as the Peacekeepers opened the door and calmly asked him to exit as if they hadn't heard a thing. Clove could feel the tears drip down onto her chest from her chin in a steady stream. The door was closed again, and Clove knew that she had no other visitors to wait for. Instead, she crumpled onto the floor and curled up into a ball.

Rolling up her sleeve, Clove traced her finger over the four leaf clover sketched into her upper arm.

* * *

Cato sat in the single chair that had been placed in the room, his fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern over the two leaf clover on his arm. He'd already had a visit from his mother and another from one of his siblings that could actually control their sobs long enough to say something. The guilt of potentially splitting up his family because of this had been eating away at him all day. It all came down to the farewell meeting with his father.

A Peacekeeper pushed open the door slowly, giving way to his father.

"Cato."

"Dad," Cato replied simply, dipping his head in a slow nod of acknowledgement.

Cato's father, Mayor Greyson, leaned forward on his cane until he was eye level with his son. He remained silent until the door slammed shut behind them, and then he motioned for Cato to stand so that he could take the seat.

Cato slid out of the way as his dad sat himself down. Leaning against the door, the young man watched his father intently, looking for any display of emotion.

"You have to take that girl out first thing if she doesn't agree to have an alliance with you."

Sighing, Cato nodded. He should have seen this coming; his father would only worry about the tactics and the technical details, not the fact that his son could potentially die and never return home. "I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Dad."

His dad let out a deep sigh, the stench of tobacco filling the air and then dissipating altogether. "I believe in you, Cato." And for once in his life, Cato saw real emotion gleaming in his father's eyes. He stepped forward to give him a quick embrace before a Peacekeeper opened the door.

"Thanks, Dad," he whispered as he watched his father exit the room without a second glance backward. At the same time that he resented the Capitol for stripping his family from him, he felt that he could prove himself. He could prove that District 2 tributes were still a threat in the Hunger Games. He could prove that volunteering wasn't necessarily an idiotic decision to make. He could prove to Clove that he cared.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So yeah, third chapter. At this point, if you have any critique, I'd be more than happy if you reviewed or somehow got that to me. I'm not sure quite how confusing this turned out, and if you let me know, I'll try to make sure things are more clear in the future. ^_^


	4. A Train That Will Take You Far Away

Clove's eyes were still a faint pink when she got on the train.

"You two can go get cleaned up if you'd like. We'll eat soon," Milyndia flashed them a big smile as she hurried off to her own compartment, blue hair swinging in her wake.

Clove headed straight for her room, but in her haste, she didn't realize she was being followed. She reached the threshold to her room soon enough, but as she went to close the door behind herself, she found that a body was in the way.

"What?" Clove snapped. She could see the conflicting emotions fighting for prominence until they were banished to some dark corner, leaving her staring into an expressionless mask.

Cato shrugged and stalked off, presumably to his own room. Clove watched him until she could hear his door shut. Closing her door, Clove leaned against it, small tears rolling down her cheeks as she slid to the ground. She buried her face into her knees, arms wrapped tight around her legs and black hair creating a veil of darkness that surrounded her.

She sat like that for a while, not bothering to move or get up. There was no hunger in her. Her father's words hung in her thoughts, taunting her incessantly. _I still blame you for what happened._ Clove squeezed her eyes shut tight, rocking back and forth a little. _I hope you die out there in that damn arena._ Choked sobs were all that she could muster now, her shoulders shaking from the force. It could all be okay, right? It wasn't that bad. Maybe he hadn't meant it after all; he'd been drunk. But the words wouldn't stop coming, every last thing he'd said filling her mind. _I don't ever want to see your face again._

And then all she could see was Milyndia sticking her hand into that blasted ball, fingers diving straight into the heart of those tiny sheets. Her nails ensnared one, lifting it carefully out of the glass bowl. The crinkling of paper echoed over the sound system as she opened it with such a precision that Clove could have sworn she'd gone through special training just for that moment. _Clover Nightingale_. Those two words rang in her head until there was an unbearable pounding and she screamed.

* * *

Clove woke with a start. She uncurled herself from her fetal position on the floor, stretching out her body as she stood. She must have fallen asleep. There was a light knock on the door again; the echo of one that must have woken her only moments ago.

Opening the door slowly, Clove peered through the crack to see someone all too familiar standing outside her door.

"Well, don't you look just a little worn down," Milyndia clucked, newly dyed hair gleaming a bright orange atop her head. It was done up in some kind of elaborate hairstyle that seemed to go on forever like an infinity symbol. Clove's dark eyes looked down at the tray she was holding. Steam curled into the air from a bowl of soup perched in the middle of a plate of greens.

"I'm not hungry," Clove said, moving to shut the door. She caught the look of surprise on her escort's face just before the door slammed between them and cut off any kind of pleasant conversation the older woman had been hoping to carry on.

As much as she'd wanted that to be the end of it, Clove had some sense to assume Milyndia wouldn't give up so easily. Not ten minutes later there were more murmurs out in the hall, but she didn't have the energy to get up and listen through the door.

Another knock. "Clover, open the door."

Clove pushed herself off her bed and sighed. She opened the door just wide enough that she'd have been able to slip in and out, though her intruders wouldn't. "What now?"

Holding the tray like Milyndia had instructed, Cato looked down at Clove irritably. He was probably mad that he'd been dragged into the Capitol woman's problems, but Clove couldn't say that she felt sorry for him.

"Would you please eat something?" Dark eyes flicking between the two, Clove caught Milyndia mouthing the words behind him and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I suppose you can come in," Clove pursed her lips, looking up at Cato before glaring over his shoulder at Milyndia. "But not you." Milyndia huffed, her smile faltering. Clove could care less if she was offended.

Clove retreated back into her room and Cato followed, closing the door behind him. He set the tray down on her bed before swiping a piece of toast and sitting on the ground. "Why didn't you come out to eat?"

Situating herself atop the bedspread, Clove leaned forward to grab the other piece of toast. She shoved a piece into her mouth, relishing the warm butter melting on her tongue. "I wasn't hungry."

Cato rolled his eyes, obviously knowing better. "And you're suddenly hungry now? You're not fooling anyone, Cloves."

She smirked, "Awh, too bad. I was sure I had you fooled. _Darn._"

They looked at each other for a moment, both eating in silence before Cato rolled his eyes again. He stood, brushed some crumbs off himself, and then lay down on the side of the bed no one was occupying. Cato stared at the ceiling, appearing as though he was asleep though his eyes were open. The pair sat in silence together, neither moving nor talking for a few long moments.

"What happened?" His blue eyes searched her face and she looked away.

"Nothing. Just let it go."

"Cloves, I'm not letting it go," Cato moved his hand to grab hers but she pulled it away, jumping off the bed in the process, face livid. Clove's temper could flare at the drop of a pin.

"Can't you see that I don't want to talk to you?!" She shrieked, lips curling down over her tiny, white teeth. Hot tears of anger filled her eyes and her stomach bubbled nervously. "Just leave me alone." Clove turned her face as she felt the tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She couldn't swipe at them, though. That'd let him know she was crying.

There was a sigh and then the creak of bed springs. Unlike what Clove had been expecting, Cato hadn't stood up, but he'd merely lay back down, eyes trained on the ceiling. "You know, my dad actually didn't say anything bad. I promised I'd kill you if you wouldn't form an alliance with me, though."

Clove, despite herself, couldn't help but grin a little. Cato didn't even look her way to check her reaction so she let the grin slid right off her face. After a few moments of tense silence, Clove crossed the room and lay down on the bed next to Cato, careful to keep any part of her body from touching him.

"You know, I think I might actually miss them," Cato said.

"Who?"

"My family."

"Oh.." Clove trailed off, all the words she wanted to say springing into her head. Another bout of silence between the pair, and then, "My dad talked to me."

"Did he?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

"He said, um. He said that—"

Cato remained silent, never once moving or looking her way. He was being a quiet listener; something very rare with him.

"He said that he never wanted to see me again," Clove began, tears spilling out and running down her cheeks again, feeling cool on her hot skin. "He said he still blamed me. Then.. _Then_ you know what he said?" Clove was silent, letting the suspense build, though it was for no one but herself. She could feel the sobs rising in the back of her throat. "He said that he wanted me to die in that arena. 'That _damn_ arena.'"

Clove let out a strangled noise, sobs racking her body. The whole bed shook under her, vision blurring with tears that she never had the courage to let loose. But here she was now, crying in front of the last person that she'd ever want to cry in front of.

Cato remained motionless, and for a moment, Clove wondered if he had died right here without a sound. His chest was still rising and falling steadily, though, and as her sobs died down, Clove curled up against his side.

She closed her eyes and tried to let it go.

"Do you remember that poem? The one from that story.." Cato snapped his fingers as he tried to recall the name of it, but nothing came to mind. It didn't matter, because he knew Clove knew what he was talking about.

Clove nodded, eyes still shut tight against the darkening world.

"_As I lay dying, my soul free to take. I dream of a girl.._"

The poem wasn't a happy one. It was a lament over the death of a girl who'd died with unrequited love. The poem, though mildly confusing at first, was from the girl's point of view as she reveled in the fact that her suffering might finally be over. Clove closed her eyes, dreaming of herself in a better day. Cato knew that Clove liked it. There was something subtly dark about it, with so many implications as to what could have happened that the mystery left her wanting more of the story.

"_Whose heart no more aches_," Clove finished in a whisper, slipping into a deep sleep for the first time in a long time.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everyone that's reviewed this story. (All four of you :P 3) This chapter is kind of a filler chapter, just to get some things out of the way that I'm going to attempt at tying in later. ^_^ Brownie points to whoever can guess what. (And that poem was written by me, so if it's terrible, you know who to blame.)


	5. Breaking Point

Cato woke up to light streaming through the small window opposite his bed. He'd moved last night a while after Clove had fallen asleep. Though he hadn't wanted to leave, it would have been a bit suspicious for Milyndia to open the door in the morning and find them together so he'd opted to leave.

That had been weeks ago, though. Their time in the Capitol was coming to a close. It wouldn't be long and the two of them would be heading into the Arena for the first and—for at least one of them—last time. Cato had already made up his mind on what he'd do if anyone got to Clove before he could stop them. He remembered her sleeping form curled against his body like a helpless child and grimaced.

Squeezing his eyes shut and then blinking them back open, the blond boy glanced across the table at his fellow tribute. Clove gnawed on her piece of sausage obliviously. Her dark eyes were too busy following the movements of Milyndia. Behind the curtain of mischief and the veil of something unpleasant, Cato knew he could find the real Clove, clawing at the walls she'd built to protect herself.

"Hey."

"What?"

"A watched pot never boils."

".. What does that have to do with anything, Cato?" Clove rolled her eyes before returning her attention to Milyndia who was busy wrangling one of the curtains. Her breakfast-aside from the meat in her clutches-lay forgotten and cold on her plate.

"The longer you watch her, the longer she's not going to come over here and bother you." But Clove was sure that the minute she looked away, Milyndia would pop up out of nowhere.

"You're an idiot," she grumbled before stabbing her fork into her mound of scrambled eggs and twisting it around.

It was Cato's turn to roll his eyes at her stubbornness. _It'll get her killed in the Arena._ The thought was unexpected, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly. It must have shown on his face because he now had Clove's full attention. Her dark eyes scanned his face, her intense stare shrinking him in his chair.

As of recent, their relationship had become more tentative than it had ever been in the past. Tension hung in the air and shrouded them every minute of every day. There was no escaping the reality that was threatening to crush both of them in its wake; only one out of twenty four would make it out alive. Only one of them could live to see another day outside that arena.

And because of that, the two of them were holding their real personalities back by only strings. In private, Clove's anger had taken on new levels to scare him and Cato was feeling less sure of himself by the hour. To the public, they continued to use the fearless covers they'd been using since day one. Nobody had to know they were having second thoughts about coming out on top. _Nobody._

"Cato, stop looking at me like that," Clove hissed from across the table.

He been so lost in his thoughts, he'd forgotten to look away from her face. Her comment—one he could usually brush away with ease—rubbed him the wrong way, though. "I can look at you whenever I want to."

"Not if I gauged your eyes out," she retorted defiantly, twirling her fork with a sick smile.

"You wouldn't do that and we both know it. Stop coming up with useless threats."

Neither Clove nor Cato noticed as Milyndia stopped fidgeting with the curtain and other various pieces of décor and stopped to stare at them. Their comments had come out as shouts, loud and distracting. Her gaze illuminated all the horror of being caught in a fight between two tributes who could easily turn anything at their hands into weapons.

"I'll _threaten_ you when I want to."

"No, you _won't_."

Clove stood, kicking her chair backwards when it wouldn't move the way she wanted it to. "Listen, _pretty boy_," her fingers tightened around her fork until her knuckles were white, "if you so much as look my way one more time before we step into that arena, I will personally make sure you don't make it past the Bloodbath."

Remaining seated, Cato didn't even blink when Clove leaned across the table and ran the teeth of the fork along his jawline. His steely gaze never strayed from her face. "Cato. My name is _Cato_. And what is your problem? You're acting like you don't even know me. But I know you, Clove."

The brunette let out a hiss, moving her fork to his throat. Clove's eyes narrowed to slits as she watched him like a predator trapping her prey. "And?"

He yawned as if it were suddenly all too much and pushed her fork away easily as he stood. "Not this girl." Cato looked at her with barely hidden disgust. It was as though she'd lost herself overnight—the sudden changes in her attitude towards him.

Clove grimaced and dove under the table for his leg. Cato jumped just in time, barely missing her hand, which he would have surely crushed if he'd landed on it. In the corner, Milyndia was darting back and forth on her heels, waving at them to stop. "Please, please, this isn't necessary. I'll give you extra desserts."

The two moved around each other in tandem. Clove would strike from beneath the table, using the shadows to lurk about until Cato came within reach again. Cato was light on his feet as he dodged her attacks, hesitant to use the only one he was sure would work, which would be to kick her. A miscalculation on Clove's part had Cato lunging under the table after her, one hand curling firmly around her ankle.

"Get _off!_" she kicked helplessly as he pulled her out from under the long Capitol table. "Cato, let go of me now!"

"Sorry, _Cloves_, I don't work that way," he smirked.

"That's a really bad comeback," Clove folded her arms as he forced her into a standing position. His grip around her ankle was gone, but he now held both of her wrists.

Just to prove his point, Cato took a good long look at Clove, blue eyes flitting over every inch of her pale face. There was a piece of hair sticking to her forehead and a light sheen of sweat was visible if he turned his head just so. Brushing it aside, he could feel her tense in his grasp. A grin danced onto his lips and she growled in the back of her throat.

He leaned in until their foreheads touched, forgetting that Milyndia had ever existed in the first place, much less the fact that she was watching them carefully from her new hiding spot behind the curtains.

"Don't lose yourself."

"Why do you care? In a few days, nothing will even matter. We'll just be faces on another video."

"Don't say that."

"Don't tell me to do things I don't want to do. You're not my mother."

Cato let go of her and stepped back as if he physically couldn't stand to be around her any longer. "You don't have to be like this. We can be allies."

"What if I don't _want_ to be your ally? Huh?"

"Then I'll have to kill you like the rest." And with that, Cato left the room, his promise to his father weighing heavily upon his shoulders.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Long time no see. _ _ Sorry to any of you who have actually been waiting around for another chapter, but here it is. ^_^ Also, sorry if it's a bit confusing. I may go back and revise it later if I'm in the mood, but it's been a while since I've written some Clato fanfiction (about four months, actually..) so that's why this chapter in particular might be a little rough around the edges. Feel free to leave comments! :)


	6. Playing Games

_Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

All twenty-four tributes were off and running, though the direction they chose to run in was up to their personal confidence. Cato caught the flash of long brown hair in his peripheral view and knew instantly where Clove was headed. She made her beeline for the knives which were happily glittering in the sun, waiting for their rightful owner to swipe them. His own weapon was waiting to be swept off its feet by its very own prince charming. He snatched at the spear and threw it just in time to ward off a girl slinking around the Cornucopia.

Grabbing a nearby ax as he ran past, the blond dodged various tributes, only killing when absolutely necessary. He could see the smarter ones fleeing—the idiots had been slaughtered before the real fun could even begin. The thought brought a grimace to his face. Blue eyes scanned the area before narrowing in on one of the other career tributes. He took off at a run.

Cato swung the ax dangerously close to Clove's face. She backed up, fear obvious on her face. "Wh-what?" Her hesitance to use her knives on him wasn't surprising in the least. The fact that they'd had a fight before wasn't lost on him, but Cato hardly believed that Clove would hate him enough to kill him here and now. He still shared that with her, at least.

"Duck," he growled under his breath as Clove backed herself against a tree. "_Duck!_"

She ducked just as he threw the axe over his shoulder and deep into the tree's exposed bark.

"Now use one of your knives to cut my leg."

Gritting her teeth, Clove looked as though she was about to refuse, but she'd always been a smart girl. They were putting on a show for his father. Battling her instincts, she threw a furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure that no one had followed them to the outskirts of the forest before unsheathing one of her knives at the speed of light.

"You better know what you're doing," she hissed through her teeth as she ran the silver blade along his shin. In a way, Clove felt like she was cutting herself, the cut of her knife leaving an invisible pain inside her chest. She fought her emotions to keep them off her face as she fled into the forest beyond, leaving a panting Cato behind.

* * *

There was a hesitance to Clove's run as she darted among the trees. Glimmer and Marvel weren't far over, and if she'd been willing, a quick jog to the left would put her directly in front of them. As it was, Clove wasn't ready to face them without Cato at her side, and she'd just injured and abandoned him at the edge of the forest. Who even knew what kind of game he was playing at this point, because she sure as hell didn't. Clove worked against her instinct to run up to them and offer her alliance. She was younger; they'd merely treat her as someone who could be easily disposed.

"District Two! Over here!" A streak of blonde crossed her view, and suddenly, Clove found herself jogging beside Glimmer, Marvel in tow. So much for avoiding them. "Where'd Cato go?"

Of course she knew _his_ name. Clove jerked her thumb over her shoulder irritably as she slowed to a stop, expression stormy. "He's back there against a tree. Probably in pain considering I cut him with one of my knives." To prove her point, the brunette flipped one of the knives out of its sheath and through the air, catching it by the blade which slid coolly through her slender fingers. She pinched the blade between her thumb and index finger before casually flipping it into the trunk of a nearby tree.

Glimmer seemed to have absorbed only the information about Cato and nothing else. Marvel had paled slightly at the display of her knife throwing, though he quickly recovered. "Show-off," he muttered.

A light gasp of surprise from the blonde caused Clove to turn on her heel. The first thing she saw was Cato emerging from the outskirts of the forest, half-hidden from the maze of trees that lay between him and the rest of the careers.

He waved. "Don't start the party without me." There was that cheeky grin that Clove hadn't seen in a while, but it wasn't directed toward her as far as she could tell. Cato's gaze slid from Marvel to Glimmer—where it seemed to remain for a few long moments. He barely acknowledged Clove's existence.

"Are you okay?" Glimmer sent Clove a poorly hidden glare. The brunette clenched her teeth angrily. It wasn't _her_ fault Cato was a blundering idiot who'd _requested_ she put a knife to his skin.

Cato's grin faltered for a fraction of a second, but only Clove seemed to catch it. His eyes remained firmly set on Glimmer's face as he spoke. "A little scratch is all. Nothing to worry over." He seemed to be forcing himself to not look in Clove's direction at this point. "Really."

Clove couldn't believe the act he was putting on for everyone. What had happened to the "don't lose yourself" boy who'd been concerned about her well-being? It seemed as though he'd been replaced by a new boy who was only worried about how he appeared to the cameras or his father or any other goddamned person but her. Clove frowned and folded her arms across her chest.

As they set off in search of somewhere to sleep for the night, Clove found herself walking alongside Marvel while Cato and Glimmer walked ahead, barely an inch of air between the two of them.

"How do you _stand_ her?" she grumbled the question before she could stop herself.

"Good question."

Giving the other boy a sidelong glance, Clove noticed the telltale traces of a smirk on his face in the dimming light. Maybe he really wasn't half as bad as she'd first thought. "Got any good tips for surviving?"

"She doesn't stop when she wants something," he paused for effect, raising a finger to point as Glimmer's arm snaked around Cato's waist, "and she wants him. Long story short, she figures she should have some fun before she dies in this arena." Marvel gestured to the leafy canopy above their heads, a sad note evident in his tone.

"Good to know.." Clove mused aloud, dark eyes sparkling in the eerie moonlight that filtering through the leaves.

* * *

Every noise that rose in the night, whether it was the snap of a twig or the whistle of a breeze, sent a shiver down Clove's spine. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her uniform until she couldn't feel the tips of them from the effort.

The light touch of a hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump out of her skin. In the dark, it was nearly impossible to see who it was or what they wanted, and Clove squinted helplessly into the night in search of whatever or whomever had touched her. Rolling over to her other side, she found herself face-to-face with a sleeping Marvel.

She propped herself up on an elbow as she tried to nudge him awake. Her eyes sought out any light in an attempt to survey the surrounding area. The only patch of light available was busy shedding light on the sleeping forms of Cato and Glimmer who were nestled against each other at the base of a nearby tree.

_So much for someone keeping watch.._ But Clove was too angry with them-and Cato especially-to bother waking Marvel to watch with her. She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest as a breeze picked up behind her. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and legs and Clove rubbed her hands along her skin in an attempt to ward them off.

"Clove?" a groggy Marvel questioned.

A sudden idea surfaced in her mind and she laid back down silently before curling into Marvel's side. He didn't shy away, only moved his body to curve around hers slightly. A smirk settled on Clove's lips as she slid back into a fitful sleep. _Serves Cato right._

* * *

**Author's Note: **These chapters are a bit shorter, but at least I'm writing again, right? :) Comments are always nice. Enjoy._  
_


	7. Listening to Marvel

When Clove finally woke up, an hour or so after the others, she found herself instantly trapped in the middle of a silent argument between Cato and Marvel. They seemed to be taking turns staring the other down, but she didn't make a move to comment, only rubbed her eyes and yawned a little louder than was truly necessary.

"Everyone sleep well?" she trilled like Milyndia, hoping to get a smile out of Cato or at least a little bit of acknowledgement.

His cold gaze swung to meet hers, but only for the briefest of seconds. Clove felt a sense of betrayal flow through her and she clenched her teeth. How was he doing this to her? It wasn't even _her_ fault? _He'd_ started it. She huffed and felt Marvel's eyes on her without having to look up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make him mad at you," he said in a low voice, eyelids dropping to mask the fact that he was speaking to her, though Clove knew Cato would know anyway.

Clove adopted a hard look, dark eyes looking past their makeshift camp and into the big, unknown world that was this forest. And yet, for all the space it seemed to take up, they were still only within the confines of the arena. It amazed her on some level, but she barely recognized that anymore with the fatigue and anger she was experiencing. It felt like they'd been here ages and yet only minutes.

"It's not your fault," she bit out, gaze swinging to lock onto his. Marvel's eyes were easy to get lost in, but unlike Cato's, they were a welcoming golden brown instead of a piercing blue. Clove couldn't hold the will to get mad at him as she did with Cato. Cato was easy to blame—even easier to coax into a fight considering he usually refused to back down first. Marvel had a hard outer shell, but the person beneath was different, almost mold-able it seemed, though Clove was sure he was stronger than he appeared at the moment. This was only another side.

"So you forgive me then?"

Clove's gaze flickered to the glowering form of Cato across the campfire as she gave a sharp nod of her head. Marvel leaned in and brushed his lips against Clove's—an action she hadn't foreseen Just as she tensed up, though, she felt rather than heard his breath near her ear.

"Glimmer wants Cato, but I can help you. _Play along_." He hadn't even said to _just play along_, as though she had an option; he'd nearly demanded it. And that was why, turning her head to look at him straight on (and to hide her expression from Cato a little), Clove let her fingertips run along the length of Marvel's jawline, a smirk on her face. He knew. _But he can help_. Granted, though Clove didn't like to accept help, she couldn't say no to someone who could be forceful; a small part of her admired it even.

"Are you two done over there yet?" Clove turned abruptly to catch a glimpse of Cato standing and leaning into a quick stretch. "Couple's time isn't on the agenda." His eyes weren't on Marvel anymore, though. They'd seemed to have attached themselves to Clove's face and they were holding her captive. _Cato_ was holding her captive in his steely gaze.

"I could say the same to you, but looks like your girl skipped out on you." Marvel's voice made Clove's skin jump, and she hated the feeling of vulnerability. She bit back the retorts bubbling in the back of her throat. This was Cato and her's fight. Marvel didn't have a place in it, even though, in reality, he kind of did now.

Clove swore under her breath without thinking.

"What was that, Cloves? Got a new nickname for me?"

"Shut up," she jumped up and clenched her fists at her sides as she stared him down. Cato wasn't going to win this that easily.

"Calm down," Cato waved a hand flippantly, obvious entertainment on his face. He was doing this on purpose, she knew, but Clove couldn't stop herself. He'd be dead in a few minutes if he didn't stop. Clove had never been a morning person, and even an idiot knew the _Games_ weren't the best place to test a person's limits. Cato continued regardless, clearly undeterred. "_Your boy_ might not be too happy with you if you kill your ally."

Luckily, Marvel was smarter than to try to jump in again, though he watched with mild skepticism as Clove inched closer to Cato, ignoring the fact that a spear was clenched tightly in the older boy's hands. Both of them knew he wouldn't dare use it on her. "Where's glitter girl, huh? Decide you weren't good enough so she had to go find someone else? That baker boy wasn't _all_ that bad."

"Then why don't you just go hook up with him? Mhm, Cloves? Since he's _not all that bad_." Cato snorted.

Clove laughed as well, a ringing hollow sound that caused frown lines to crease Marvel's forehead. The blond boy merely sneered in response. "Why don't _you_?"

"You're such a _child_."

"I'm sorry," Clove hissed, "I don't remember staring contests and the silent treatment being the mature way to solve all your problems." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

Cato leaned in closer, gaze intense. "That's pretty rich coming from the girl that solves _all_ her problems with the silent treatment."

"I can't believe you sometimes! Just run off to Glimmer already! God, you're such an asshole."

"You're lucky I haven't killed you yet." He shouted in return, ignoring any jabs at him concerning Glimmer. She seemed to be—for once since entering the Arena—the least of his worries. "I don't have to break my promise. I don't have to be your ally."

"That's cute," Clove turned to Marvel as though they were in on some private joke. Marvel didn't say anything, but his arched eyebrow told her that he wasn't buying it. That only made her laugh harder—at the ridiculous being that was Cato and at the ridiculousness that was this entire conversation. "He thinks we're allies." She bent double, laughing until the hot tears of her anger squeezed through her eyes.

Before she could so much as blink an eye, Cato had her pushed up against a tree and he wasn't the least bit nice about it. Marvel scrambled to his feet in a belated attempt to help her, but Cato held a hand up as if to ward him off, and funnily enough, it did stop Marvel. Clove, on the other hand, didn't even think to react or try to when she'd regained her wits.

"When you're ready to grow up and act like the Clove I know.." Cato paused at this, and as he shifted his weight from his right leg to his left, Clove caught sight of the tear in his jeans and the gloomy red that was lurking beneath the fabric. She frowned; he wasn't even bothering to finish his sentence.

"I am Clove."

"No, you're letting the Capital get to you. This is all getting to you."

"Why is it that you're always the voice of reason when you realize that you're losing the argument?"

She finally got what she'd been working toward—a smirk from Cato. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was something he wore more than an actual smile anyway, and she was willing to settle. Satisfaction pooled in the depths of her midnight eyes. "Can't let you win. I've got to be the adult." His words were murmurs—fragments of thoughts and only partial sentences. Cato seemed focused on something else, and as Clove relaxed, she realized their proximity and her current state.

"Cato."

He snapped to and walked away at a clipped pace. Behind him, Clove was left with an ever-skeptical Marvel, looking as though he wanted an explanation. To be honest, she was kind of wishing someone would explain all of this to her, too.

* * *

**Author's Note**: One long chapter without a million breaks. :o What is this magic?! I really do owe you guys, for all I've made the majority of you wait, especially if you decided to follow from the beginning. Over four months and only seven chapters to show for it? Miserable progress, I know, but I'm trying to get better about it. I hope this chapter isn't a _total_ disappointment. Also, before I forget, I want to include a lovely (and very good) question left by alpacalyspe in a review. And the answer, of course, in case this concerns any other readers out there. :)

**Q:** ".. although the chapters seem a little disjointed. Also, to clarify: will the other 74th Hunger Games characters be integrated into this? And did Clove throw a knife at Katniss at the Cornucopia or did you just not include it...?"

**A:** It's been a while since I've actually read the books/seen the movie, so I'm sorry about missing details, but I wrote it as though following Cato's progression through the bloodbath with him catching up to Clove at the outskirts of the forest if that makes sense. :P I can understand the disjointed-ness, but the chapters are kind of designed to skip across time a little.

Comments are always lovely if you want to leave those behind. :D Any kind-constructive criticism is _always_ welcome. Enjoy! (And if you like A:TLA and/or Zutara, check out my other fic. /shameless advertising)


	8. Agreements of The Careers

Her hands shook slightly as she twisted the rope around a branch and tied it off. Testing her weight against it, Clove began to climb. She was trying to move fast—trying to convince herself to act as though a real attacker were coming after her, but it was hard. Marvel was only steps behind, but she had already ascended higher than he could jump. He gritted his teeth and dug stubby nails into the tree bark as he headed up after her.

"Go, Clove, go!" Glimmer cheered from the sidelines, pale face almost wistful in the summer light. It took a critical eye to tell that she wasn't just another blonde idiot. Clove was slowly learning that even an apparently shallow girl like Glimmer had a few hidden talents up her sleeve, and Glimmer's might just come to save her life—that was what frightened Clove the most.

Grunting in frustration, Clove glanced down out of the corner of her eye to see Marvel with the knife between his teeth, the sharp blade mere centimeters from slicing his mouth. The act of looking back at her opponent earned her a strict yell from Cato.

"What do you think you're doing? _Climb_. If you look back one more time, you can do push-ups while the rest of us eat lunch."

Cato thought he was giving her a punishment, but really, Clove didn't see it as that bad. The chance to prove him wrong was more satisfying than proving to him that she could easily skip one meal. Clove would show Cato that she could look back at her enemy and still evade them with ease. It took all her will power not to turn and stick her tongue out at the blond boy on the ground.

"C'mon, Marvel," the dark-haired girl trilled as she swung herself up onto another branch up, kicking out at him as she did. He dodged reflexively, a growl emitting from the back of his throat.

A branch snapped under her weight and Clove was left to hastily scrabble for another, her ankle dipping right into Marvel's face for a split second. Her fingers brushed a thicker piece just as she felt a foreign object clamp itself around her exposed skin: Marvel's hand. The brunette gritted her teeth, a low hiss whistling through her teeth as she heard another shout echo through the trees.

"CLOVER, DAMMIT. _CLIMB."_ She was beginning to wonder what kind of training practice they were having, and if Cato was actually just trying to alert the entire arena to their whereabouts, but she hadn't seen any suspicious movement, aside from Marvel still tugging on her leg from below.

She sucked in a deep breath and realized that the only reason she hadn't gone down yet was that Marvel didn't have enough balance to throw only her off. If he tried to pull her down over him now, he'd lose his grip and end up as her landing mat, should they make it all the way to the forest floor. They'd both come to an almost stand-still halfway up the tree—her fingers twining into a small, knotted hole as Marvel kept his hand firmly clamped around the bone of her ankle.

Tensing, Clove felt as though she was moving in slow motion, both of them finding a way out at the exact same moment in time. The problem was, their solutions were those of two different minds and two different goals, and one was going to have to overpower the other to succeed. Clove hoped—no, she _knew_—this would be her.

Her eyes shot to the sides to give one last calculating glance at the trees surrounding the one they were currently occupying. Next, Clove steadied herself as she felt Marvel shifting his weight from below and then she was pushing off from the tree, throwing herself into voluntary free-fall.

"What the hell are—" Marvel was cut off as the realization that he was going to hit the ground hard if he didn't do something about it first settled in. Cursing, the District 1 tribute twisted into an attempt to land without injuring himself too badly. Clove, on the other hand, reached out to the next tree over and threw her hands up to catch herself on a branch. Not having been able to test her weight against it beforehand, she realized far too late that she'd miscalculated, and the second twig to snap on her that day sent her spiraling out of control at the trunk. The impact nearly knocked the wind out of her, but at least she wasn't falling any longer; a thick branch had broken her fall and possibly one of her fingers.

Blinking back stars and shifting her gaze to the forest floor below, Clove could see Marvel in a crouch at the base of her new tree. He looked livid from the stunt she'd pulled, and a faint smirk graced her face.

"Don't have too much fun down there without me," she wiggled her fingers tauntingly, barely catching the grimace that crossed his face before it was replaced with nothing more than a neutral frown. So he was trying to keep his anger concealed—now _that_ wouldn't do.

Craning her neck to locate Cato through the foliage, Clove was hardly worried about the movements Marvel was making below. "Hey, Chief! I knocked Marvel to the ground, does that not count for anything?"

There was a pause.

Then, "Fine. We have some new business to attend to anyway. Get your ass down here, Clove. And Marvel, stop climbing that tree before you hurt yourself."

Clove caught Glimmer's derisive snort and her eyes instantly narrowed. The other girl's abilities were finally coming to light, and with that, Clove could understand why she'd received the score she had. A nine was nothing to be ashamed of—far from it—but Glimmer wasn't _that_ fantastic with her bow. Just that morning, Clove had nearly been shot in the head.

* * *

_An arrow pierced the trunk next to Clove's head and she turned abruptly. A blushing Glimmer gave her a wide-eyed stare and her dark eyes narrowed on the blonde._

"_Is this how you treat all of your allies?" Clove bit out angrily._

"_I'm sorry, Clover. Cato told me I'm no good at throwing spears, so I was just trying the bow and arrow again. It must've slipped."_

_Or you have terrible aim_, _she thought wearily, knowing she had enough to worry about as it was without being shot while they were bloody practicing._

* * *

Now, though, as she scaled down the tree at a pace that was surely making Cato ground his teeth to dust, Clove detected the presence of a fifth person. There were four of them running around in and composing the Careers' group. The only thing that didn't make sense was how the newcomer was still breathing.

"You're lucky I haven't speared your head yet," came a snarl from Cato, and Clove rolled her eyes as she brushed off her pants. Funny how they thought along the same lines, except when it really wasn't funny at all.

Finally turning to get a good look at the stranger's face, Clove felt her fingers instinctively flip out a knife and point it at him.

"What is _he_ doing here? Why haven't one of you killed him yet?"

Cato's sharp gaze alighted on her momentarily before flicking back to Peeta. "He says he wants to be our ally, and that he can offer us something we can't refuse."

"And what's that?" Glimmer's voice was cold, face hard and expression unreadable as she spoke. It was as though her entire personality had transformed in the span of two seconds. There was even a dagger half-hidden in the sleeve of her shirt, handle clutched in her clenched fist. Clove could honestly say that she liked her much more this way.

"I can lead you to Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. The one from my—"

"We know where she's from and who she is," Cato spat in response, eyes seeming to narrow further. His gaze flickered over the other three of his group and he crossed his arms over his chest as he gave Peeta an appraising look. "So what do you think team? Stay or _go_?"

Clove could see the nervousness flicker over Peeta's features—he was weak and expendable, but there was no doubt that he could be useful.

"We need her gone," Marvel finally spoke up, steely gaze never leaving Peeta's face. That was all he said, though. No less, no more. The unspoken words they were all thinking floated through the air and glinted in their bright eyes as they all exchanged another look.

_Find the girl. Kill them both._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Isn't this cute? A short little filler chapter? :) Yeah, I thought so. Anywho, this is mostly to get the meeting of Peeta out of the way, and really, I'm going to deem this a little AU because deaths will kind of come when I want them too, and I might even try to clear up those vague deaths in my own little fashion. ;D More fun to come; more violence to come. (Hopefully. I realize that after reading this chapter, you have an idea of how awful my fight scenes might be.. I'm more inclined to the emotional side of it all sooo bear with me. :3

Special thank you to everyone who was followed/favorited/reviewed! You guys are the one reason I keep going, even after all this time. (... *cough* Even after all this time? Always. *sobs*)


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